I know it's my insides what are turnin' on me 'cause me belly hurts, too. I've gone down to look through the Professor's books but couldn't find nothin' that spoke to my condition. The Doctor's books are all in Latin, so they're no good, neither.
"Just don't give it to me," says Davy.
Nor bloody likely, Mate.
It's the third day of The Problem and I am weary of the worry. I decide what I'll do if it don't stop is wait till I'm weak with the loss of blood and then go see the Doctor and beg to be put off in some decent port 'cause ain't I been good and done my work and all and made the uniforms and never been switched? The Doctor ain't a very warm type and would probably just want to drop me over the side, but it'd be the Captain's call and maybe he'd be kind. It is a plan and I feel better for having a plan.
The talk among the sailors is that we're low on water as it hasn't rained in months and so we'll have to make port soon. That would be good for me, since we wouldn't be going to an Arab port for the water.
I get a scrap of paper from Tilly's desk and a quill and a bottle of ink and go back down belowdecks.
The Last Will and Testament of Mary "Jacky" Faber
I, Mary "Jacky" Faber, Ships Boy, having died of some terrible and wasting disease, as you well know since you are reading this note which you have found on my lifeless body, give out my worldly things as follows.
To Liam Delaney, Seaman, I give him the love that a grateful daughter gives to her father and I give him back his whistle and thank him for the joy and comfort he has given me.
To Benjamin Hanks, Ship's Boy, I give my uniform and other clothes as he is the one closest to me in size.
To James Fletcher, Ship's Boy, I give my knife and the sure knowledge that once a poor girl loved him. I hope he will think of me fondly, sometimes.
To the other lads of the Brotherhood of Ship's Boys, I give my thanks for their friendship and wish them great good luck in their lives. You now know of my female nature and I hope you will not hold it against me when you think of me in the future.
Even though I am a girl, I would take it most kindly if my remains were treated with some respect and not just thrown overboard with no words said over me. As I have no hammock to be sewn up in, perhaps a bit of canvas could be bought with my remaining pay for that purpose. I want to be buried as a girl, so please put me in my old shift before you put me over the side.
To all my other friends on the dear Dolphin, I give my everlasting love and affection. Please pray for my Immortal Soul, as it needs it.
Signed
Mary "Jacky" Faber, deceased
I tuck my Will inside my vest, where it will surely be found when I breathes me last.
Chapter 15
My Problem went away. I am much relieved and my high spirits return.
The thing still bothers me, though. Why did it happen? Why did it go away? Am I cured? Will it happen again? I resolve to do further study. I keep my Will tucked in my vest.
The Professor's words for today are insidious, surreptitious, and disingenuous. He spells them out and we write them down on our slates and he tells us what they mean. I help Willy write his out. He sits next to me now, on my left, since he always needs help. Tilly is on my right, at the head of the table, and Jaimy is across the table from me. The others are slumped in their chairs half asleep.
"Any questions?" asks Tilly, not expecting a reply. He closes his books, the lesson being over for the day.
"Mr. Tilden," I speaks up, all toady and respectfullike. The lads shoot me looks of pure hatred for holding up their escape back to freedom and the light. "A while back you told us all about those smutty pederasts and sodomites and buggers for our own protection and we really appreciates it that you're looking out for our best interests."
I hesitates and then presses on. I've got to find out some things. "Now, why don't you teach us the other thing," I continue, trying not to blush, "like the way of a lad with a maid..."
That gets the boys' attention. They whoop and pound on the table. Well spoke, Jack-o! Let's have it, Professor!
"...so that our educations will be complete, like, and we'll profit by it by not going down the way of sin and such."
But the Professor will have none of it.
"Oh, Jack," says he, looking at me all sorrowful, "and I thought you were a good boy." He shakes his head sadly.
I want to say that I've been a very good boy, more than he knows, but he plows on. "You of all people. I hoped that you might be a serious scholar some day. Or a man of letters, or even a man of the cloth." He looks heavenward and heaves a sigh of regret for my lost promise.
"Oh, Mr. Tilden," I say all earnest and wide-eyed, "I ask only to be given guidance down the right path, me a poor ignorant boy what don't know no better and port visits coming up where all the temptations will be laid out before my innocent eyes."
"All I will say to you young dogs is..." The circle of leering young dogs leans in closer. "The right path is the one that leads away from the Sins of the Flesh and toward the Pure Light of Reason and Righteousness!" Tilly is really red now.
"If you could be a bit clearer on the 'Sins of the Flesh,' Sir," says Davy, "the mechanics of it, like."
"Wot? You want me to give you instructions in fornication?" Tilly's all swole up like a toad now. I hope he don't take a fit. I can't understand why he's getting so hot about this—he wasn't at all shy in telling us all about those sodomites and such. There seems to be a bit of the Puritan in our Tilly.
"No. I'll have no part in it," he says, setting his mouth in a prim line. "No, you'll have to go to the tarts for your lessons in lechery just like all the bad boys before you who are now roasting in Hell, and you'll get the pox just like them and your noses will fall off and you'll come to the doctor and me, saying how sorry you are and how you'll never do it again and please, Sir, can I have some salts of white mercury, but it'll be too late for that and we'll say it serves you right, you little hounds!"
Tilly gets up all sputtering and spitting and chases us out.
"Keep your minds on your studies and your parts in your pockets or they'll fall off, too!" he says as we tumble out of the room. The anatomy of the female is not his favorite field of study, to be sure.
Is that it, though? Have I got the pox already? If so, how did I get it? I feel my nose to see if it's ready to fall off, but it seems right secure.
The pox? Is that what's wrong?
Chapter 16
TWEEEEEEEWARBLEWARBLEWEEEEEE...
The Bo'sun's pipe cuts all cruel through our sleep at a little past two bells into the predawn of the morning watch. I lurch up out of the pile of us and grab my drum hanging on the carriage of the number-eight gun and sullenly start in to beating it, still half in my sleep, and head for the quarterdeck. I'm standing there yawning, thinking it's another bleedin' drill.
But it ain't. We've got a pirate!
TWEEEEEEWARBLEWARBLETWEEEEEEEEEE...
Amid all the running around and bellowin' of orders I see a ship off to our starboard, much smaller than us, with two masts and big swooping sails rigged fore and aft. It's a corsair and we've managed in the dark to get between him and the shore. The burning hulk of the ship the pirate's just plundered is glowing in the lessening dark. It glows for a while and then winks out. Poor sods, dead or drownded now.
I suspect the pirate was so caught up in the robbin' and the killin' that he didn't notice us sneaking up in the darkness, the Dolphin all dark and quiet. He tries furiously to get back towards the safety of the shore, but he can't, 'cause we've got a good stiff breeze from offshore behind us. He'd have to beat up against the wind to give us the slip, and while he was tryin it, we could fall right down upon him and blow him to pieces. In desperation the pirate tries to outrun us to seaward.
"It won't wash, Sinbad, my lad," says the Captain with grim satisfaction. "Let's have all she'll give us, Mr. Greenshaw."
"Aye, Sir," says the Master, who then bellows through his speaking trumpet, "All to
pmen aloft to make sail!" Some of the men, the really prime seamen, leave their Quarters stations and leap aloft. I see Liam and Snag among the gang racing up the mizzen rigging, Henderson and Saunders up the after mast. The topmen hurry out onto the booms and loose the furled sails from their lanyards, and the sails belly out in the wind and are pulled taut and hard by the men on the lines on deck. More orders from the Master, and the royals and the topgallants whip out and the Dolphin plows forward ever faster in hot pursuit. In spite of my peaceful nature I am excited. A prize!
It's coming to full dawn now, and the pirate has put on all sail in his attempt to shake us. The corsair with its masts raked back looks fast, but we are gaining on it. We can see the men on board scrambling about furiously. They have a line of loaded guns and are aiming them. There's a puff of smoke and then a boom rolls across the water, but their shot goes wide and the ball skips harmlessly across the water.
"Mr. Lawrence," calls out the Captain, "give him a shot from the starboard chaser, if you please." I don't have to drum for this order, only the times when the Captain says, "On my order."
The Second Mate is stationed forward and aims the long gun on the right side of the fo'c'sle. He puts his eye on the sight and looks down the length of the barrel, a smoking punk in his right hand. Suddenly he brings the ember down to the touch hole and the gun roars and slams backward. A miss.
"Let's have another, Mr. Lawrence," says the Captain, as if he's asking for another biscuit with his tea. Mr. Lawrence's crew reloads at full speed. It's Tink that brings up the bag of powder, which is thrown down the barrel and tamped. The ball is tipped in and then the wad is rammed home to hold the ball in. The Second Mate again aims and fires. This time it hits the pirate and the gun crew sets up a cheer, but the ball only smashes in a cabin wall.
We are getting closer. About fifty yards now. Closer. The pirate fires again and the cannonball whistles over the Captain's head and makes a neat round hole in the mizzen staysail. This is serious now and no longer fun. People are shooting at me. I tear me eyes from the pirate and keep them on the Captain. If a ball is gonna come kill me, I don't want to see it on its way to me own dear body. Me legs start in to shakin'.
"Well, enough playing with toys," says the Captain, strolling casually about, as if he were taking a turn round the park on a sunny day instead of being shot at with murderous intent. The Master, too, is standing all cool with his hands behind his back, gazing up at the set of his sails, awaiting the Captain's next move.
"Mr. Greenshaw, when I give the signal, bring the ship to port so that the starboard guns will bear. After the broadside, bring her back on this course."
"Aye, Sir," says the Master. Seeing the Captain and the Master so easy and all should help me quiet the shakin' in me knees, but it don't. Maybe it'll be all right. Maybe the pirates will give up. Please, God, don't let me disgrace myself.
"Starboard guns," shouts the Captain through his trumpet to the crews of the big guns below us, "hold steady. Aim your guns but hold steady. Fire on my order."
I lifts me quiverin' sticks and waits. The Captain looks at the Master and nods. Mr. Greenshaw speaks in a low voice to the man at the wheel and the ship begins to turn to the left. I waits, me legs all jelly.
The Dolphin turns some more. Then further she turns. The wind spills out of some of her sails. Still she turns.
"Fire!" bellows the Captain, and I hammer on me drum and there's that awful crash as the guns all roar out as one and the Dolphin herself heels over from the blast.
There's a cheer from the crew: The pirate has been hit hard! Some of her guns ports are shattered and her foremast is down! It's broken about a third of the way up and the huge sail is dragging in the water, slowing the corsair down to a crawl. Some of the pirates are swinging axes, desperate to cut the sail away. Some of the pirates are getting into small boats. That's it, I prays. Run away!
"Hold fire," orders the Captain. "Starboard guns, reload with grape. Aim to clear their decks. Fire only on my order."
With that order, I knows we means to take the corsair, not sink it. We are taking a chance in order to take a prize.
The Master has brought the ship back in direct pursuit of the pirate and we draw even closer. She can't run from us now, but some of the pirates are still puttin' up a fight. I can hear the grapeshot rattlin' down the barrels.
"Same again, Mr. Greenshaw," says the Captain, and again the Dolphin swings to port. I watches the Captain and wait.
"Fire!" says the Captain, and again I hit the drum and again the guns shout out their terrible bark. The powder smoke whips back across the deck, stingin' me eyes. I sees the pirate has downed men all over its decks. We're drawing closer and closer. I sees red comin' out of their scuppers. Dear God.
Then there's a splinterin' crash and I'm up in the air and flat on me back and knocked most out of me senses. The Dolphin shudders. Then there's another blast. There's smoke and screamin' and cryin' from down below. The pirate's guns have fired point-blank into our side.
In spite of her injuries the ship pulls up beside the corsair. There's another horrible crash as the pirate gets another broadside into us. Such awful screaming.
"Man the Boarding Party to starboard," yells the Captain. "Get the nets across! All hands to the Boarding Party!"
I gets to my feet and stumbles down the ladder, numb with terror. Got to find Jaimy.
The men are grabbing cutlasses from the rack. The nets and hooks are already across to the pirate. Our Marines are up in the rigging, firing down at the pirates below, keeping them away from the netting. I sees Jaimy up at the front of the mob by the rail, waiting for the order, cutlass in hand. The men are howling like demons. I grabs a cutlass and it's heavy in me hand and I knows I'll never use it but...
Jaimy, you fool, I want to shout. Wait! You're only a boy! Let the others do it!
"Away the Boarding Party!"
Jaimy is the first one across the net and I sobs and blindly follows across, tryin' to hold me water and knowin' I ain't gonna be able to, and now I've lost sight of Jaimy and I slips on the deck and falls down 'cause it's covered with blood and there are dead men everywhere and I gets up all smeared with blood and where's Jaimy and there he is headin' aft and I heads off after him but slips again in the slick blood and falls over a pirate lyin' there without a face but with two primed and cocked pistols in his belt so I drops me cutlass and pulls one out and goes after Jaimy again.
I comes round the after cabin and there he is, lookin' confused, like he don't know what to do, and then next to me the cabin door flies open and this pirate comes out with a chest under his arm and a great curved sword in his fist and he heads for the side but Jaimy is in his path and Jaimy doesn't see him and the pirate raises his sword above his head.
"Jaimy!" I screams and Jaimy turns to see his doom and I raises the pistol in both hands and pulls the trigger and the gun bucks in me hands and smoke flies in me face and then the pirate ain't doin' nothin' but kneelin' there bleedin' through a hole in his chest, his life runnin' out of him. Jaimy looks at the pirate and then at me, all stunned.
The pirate drops the chest and it falls to the deck and pops open and gold coins spill out and across the deck, and Mr. Lawrence is there beside me and some other of our men and they scoop up the gold pieces and when they're doin' that, Bliffil comes up from behind the bulkhead where he's been hidin' and sinks his sword into the still kneelin' pirate. The pirate topples over and Bliffil raises his now bloody sword in a great show and howls in triumph. I don't think Mr. Lawrence saw what Bliffil did, but I seen what Bliffil did, and he knows I seen it.
All the pirates are now dead or gone and I turns to go back to the ship. The ships have been made fast together so it's easy to get across this time. Before I go over, I am sick and throws up. I walks on and everythin's all bright and clear but not real somehow.
The men are putting the cutlasses back in the rack. They looks at me walking up, the pistol still in me hand and the blood on me fac
e and arms and hands and on me clothes gettin' all stiff and turnin' brown, and I sees them as if all twinkly and jerky and slow. Real slow. Bloody Jack, I hears someone mutter. The Master-at-Arms takes the pistol from my hand, almost gently, and I turns and walks down the passageway. Men are washing the bloody deck with hoses and buckets but I hardly sees 'em, and the reddish foam swirls around my ankles and runs out the scuppers but I hardly feels it. In my dream I hear that many of our men are injured and four of them are dead. It's Martin and Dobbs and Mr. Leigh, the Midshipman in charge of number-six gun, and Benjy.
Benjy's dead, too.
I walk by the number-six gun and there he is, pinned to the wall with a jagged splinter in his chest, his own heart's blood spilled down over his shirt. A man bends down and yanks out the splinter and Benjy slips down to the deck like a little rag doll.
I do not scream. I do not cry. I only turns and walks on, down, down to my deepest hidey-hole where I lies down in the dark and pulls my knees to my chin.
Bloody Jack.
Chapter 17
It falls to a sailor's mates to sew him up in his hammock when he's dead and put the cannonball in to make him sink, and since I'm the one handy with the needle, I'm the one what sews Benjy up in a piece of canvas, him being too small for a hammock and him not having one, anyway, while the others stand around crying and grieving. Jaimy goes and gets the ball from the number-six gun and we puts it at Benjy's feet and I sew the canvas up toward his poor face. His eyes are half open and so's his mouth, and I can't stand the thought of him being down in the dark depths with his mouth open, so I sends Tink to get a length of light line and we binds Benjy up so his mouth is closed. Before I sew the canvas all the way up, I reach in and close his eyes with my fingertips. Then I do up the last few stitches and we see Benjy's face no more.
The bodies are laid on boards, which have one end on the ship's rail and the other end held up by the man's friends. The Captain and his officers and all the men not on watch or in sick bay are standing by with their hats in their hands. As the Deacon says the words over each man in turn, the board is lifted and the body slides off the board and into the water.